


After

by 1creativeusernameplease



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2019-11-26 12:37:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18180683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1creativeusernameplease/pseuds/1creativeusernameplease
Summary: After the events of the Battle of Hogwarts Harry and his friends must deal with the aftermath. There are people to grieve, stories to share, and futures to plan. What does Harry do with himself now that there is no mission? How does the wizarding world rebuild itself?This is my take on what happened after the battle. I'm picking and choosing the headcanons that I have accepted over the years that some may recognize. I may or may not disagree with good old J.K. here and there.





	1. After Sleep

Harry Potter and his two best friends exited the Headmaster’s office. They reached the landing in front of the gargoyle and Harry turned to both of them as if drinking in the fact that they were still there. He couldn’t believe it. It was finally over. He wrapped his arms around both of them. Hermione’s hair tickled his nose as three heads came together in a clumsy mess. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you for…” Harry trailed off. Thank you for what? Surviving? 

“Thank you for staying with me.”

Ron and Hermione squeezed him back softly. He pulled back slowly and looked at them both.

Ron spoke up first “I’m still not over the fact that you pretended to die.” His sounded hurt, maybe a little betrayed. “You scared all of us mate. Did you hear McGonagall? I thought she was gonna rip Voldemort’s head off right then and there.”

Harry blushed. “Well, I did actually die I just came back.”

Hermione's eyes widened. “But I thought you said Voldemort just killed himself?”

“I honestly don’t know the technicalities of it, and I’d love to talk to you about it but,” Harry began swaying on his feet slightly, his exhaustion doing nothing to help the sarcasm seeping into his voice, “I need to sleep.” It had been a tiring couple of days. Actually, the last year had been quite exhausting. He felt he deserved a small nap before he had to deal with anything else. “I’ll be in my dormitory. Wake me by three. I need to discuss some things with Professor McGonagall.” 

His friends nodded in understanding and he turned and headed to the Gryffindor common room. He pushed out thoughts of Riddle and funerals and what the future held and just thought of his bed. As he approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he realized he didn’t know the password. 

He shuffled awkwardly in front of her. “Er- I don’t know - I mean no one told -” 

The Fat Lady raised her eyebrows. “I think it’ll be okay if I let you in just this once. Hmm? For future reference, it is ‘Pugna.’” The painting swung aside to allow him to pass.

“Thank you,” said Harry as he climbed through to the Gryffindor common room. The fire was eternally burning in the hearth. The couches remained the same. The only difference seemed to be the notice board, where a certain shrine to fallen witches and wizards had formed. Among the faces and names were Ted Tonks, Justin Finch-Fletchly, Cedric Digory, his parents, and Frank and Alice Longbottom. Someone (he guessed it was Ginny) had scrawled the name Sirius Black it the corner. His hand itched to add the names of those he had witnessed fall in the last few days. Remus, Tonks, Dobby, Fred, Colin… but that could wait. They would be honored, Harry would make sure of it. 

He passed the notice board and climbed the spiral staircase and at last reached his dormitory. He opened the door slowly. Five four-poster beds just as they had been for the past seven years. He sighed in relief that at least this had remained unchanged. He began unbuttoning his jacket and caught a whiff of himself. He then decided a shower would not be a bad idea. He headed to the baths and quickly undressed, cast a quick scourgify charm on his clothes, and jumped in the steaming shower. He scrubbed the dirt, grime, and gore from his skin. He washed his hair methodically and then shut the water off. After wrapping a towel around his waist, he shoved his glasses on and examined himself in the mirror to make sure he hadn’t missed a spot. Something caught his eye. There was a white mark just over his heart. He leaned closer to get a better look. The mark was in the shape of a lightning bolt, just like the one on his forehead, if not a bit bigger. Harry didn’t really know what to do with this information. He traced it with his fingers. It was a little tender like a bruise but nothing more. Harry wondered if it would be there for the rest of his life. His fingers left his new scar and reached the angry circle where Riddle’s locket had burned him. The skin was still sore, like Riddle’s soul had managed to burrow into his chest and was still trying to kill him from the beyond. He sighed deeply and turned away from the mirror. In the time he spent examining his new scars he had dried off. He picked up his clothes and made his way back to his dormitory.

As he sat on the edge of his bed Harry examined his clothes. His charm was already starting to wear off. 

“Kreacher?” he called. There was a loud snap and the house elf stood before him bowing deeply. 

“Yes, Master Potter?” he croaked, watery eyes looking up at the young wizard. His left ear had a bandage wrapped around it, but he seemed otherwise unharmed from the battle. Harry was glad to see he had made it out alright and seen Regulus’ killer defeated.

“Could you gather some clean clothes, please. Just some underwear, pajamas, something for tomorrow?” 

“Of course, Master Potter.” He disappeared with a snap and returned two seconds later with fresh underwear, red and gold striped pajamas, and jeans and a t-shirt and some socks. He had also procured some student’s black wizard robes.

“Thank you, for everything, Kreacher,” said Harry as he reached for the underwear. 

“It is my pleasure, Master Potter.” The house elf bowed so low his nose touched the floor. When he straightened, Harry nodded his dismissal and Kreacher was gone. Harry pulled on the boxers and pajama bottoms and got under the covers. He had just enough time to remove his glasses and set them on the bedside table before he fell unconscious.

 

He dreamed he was at King’s Cross station. There were no trains in sight but there were plenty of people. And to his horror, he recognized them all. There was a little third year Ravenclaw girl with blonde pigtails, looking lost. He recognized a fifth year Slytherin boy, who he didn’t remember the name of, with his hands in his pockets, looking around nervously. Then he saw a flash of red hair and his stomach dropped. 

“Fred!” he called, running to meet him. Fred turned and grinned. 

“Hey mate, it’s good to see you!” Fred’s eyes glittered with humor. “Good work with old Voldy. I knew you had it in you.” 

Harry couldn’t believe this. The last time he had seen Fred he was covered in blood, surrounded by a weeping family. Harry looked around again and saw Remus and Tonks holding hands and speaking quietly. No. They can’t be here. They’re all dead. 

Harry mind started turning. They were in King’s Cross. He had an idea. Harry grabbed Fred’s hand and pulled him along roughly.

“Come on!” They reached the Lupins in no time and they both smiled as they approached. Harry wasted no time with pleasantries. “Remus, Tonks whatever you do, don’t get on a train. You too Fred. I know that it takes you away. You have a choice. Dumbledore told me. You have the choice to come back!”

They all smiled sadly. Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out a train ticket. 

“I’m afraid we don’t have a choice, Harry,” the former professor said gently. Harry watched desperately as the other two took out their own tickets.

“No!” Harry’s face flushed, a burning sensation started in the back of his throat. “You have to come back! You have a son to look after! I told you not to leave him!”

“Harry, Teddy will have-”

“And you,” he rounded on Fred. “How do think your brother’s going to get on without you?”

Fred looked crushed but managed to whisper, “You’ll look after him won’t you?”

A train whistled in the distance. Harry stiffened at the noise. 

He looked at each of them imploringly. “Please,” he begged. “I can’t-”

“Yes you can,” Remus said firmly.

The train was getting closer now. 

Tonks stepped forward and enveloped him in a crushing hug. “Look after Teddy. And don’t be afraid to ask for help. Merlin knows you deserve it.” She drew back. The station platform rumbled as the train started to slow down. 

The three of them started backing away. The train pulled in and all the other occupants of the station started toward the doors. 

“No!” shouted Harry. “Stop! You have a choice! Please!” But everyone seemed to have stopped hearing him.

“Please! Don’t leave. I can’t-”

“Harry!”

He woke with a start. Ron was staring down at him. Harry reached for his glasses and pushed them up on his nose. He had kicked off all the bed covers and he was sweating slightly. 

“What time is it?”

“Three, like you asked.” Ron was staring at the new scar on his chest, but he held back his questions for know. 

Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled on a shirt and jeans. He ran a hand over his hair which did nothing. He turned to leave.

“Where is everyone?”

Ron followed him out of the dormitory. “There still mostly in the Great Hall. The Order and staff are trying to get the kids out although they’ve got most of them. Nearly everyone is accounted for. There are repairs to the castle going on and a few people are trying to arrange funerals.” His voice broke a little in the last sentence. 

Harry remembered his dream with a wince. All those people he had somehow recognized, half of them had been children.

They made their way through the common room with minimal whispering. Harry knew it would be a while before it would stop, but it didn’t change the fact that his fingers itched for his invisibility cloak. They went through the portrait hole in silence. They had to climb over piles of rubble and Harry nearly stepped in a large puddle of blood, but they met no one else on their way. As they drew nearer to the Great Hall, they heard soft voices echoing throughout the castle. Harry steeled himself. He knew he had to talk to people eventually. It didn’t mean he had to like it though. They turned into the Great Hall and looked around. There were a few groups of people huddled in small groups just talking. Nearly everyone had been healed or had started the process. There was a row of bodies against the left wall all covered in shrouds. He saw a Hufflepuff boy sitting with his head on his knees, compulsively smoothing the fabric over a body in the corner. Harry saw the Weasley family across the room huddled in a circle. Eyes followed him as he made his way to them but everyone remained blissfully where they were. 

Mrs. Weasley saw them approaching and she disentangled herself from a blanket around her shoulders and stood from her chair. She held her arms out and smiled sadly, her red eyes still glittering with moisture. Ron joined Bill on the bench behind her.

“Harry.” She embraced him in a bone crushing hug. Harry didn’t mind, in fact, he returned the embrace in nearly equal force. She pulled back too quickly and Harry didn’t have time to hide the tears that had leaked from his eyes. Mrs. Weasley brushed them away with her thumb gently and then wiped away her own. “I’m so glad you are okay. You’ve done so well.” Her voice brimmed with pride. Then her face turned stern. “And don’t you ever pretend to be dead ever again, do you hear me? You nearly gave us all a heart attack. And you will tell us where you are going and where you are. When you weren’t there after Voldemort spoke we thought you’d gone and went to hand yourself over. And of course, you did - but we were so worried. Never do anything like that -”

“I’m sure he’ll never have to Molly,” interrupted Mr. Weasley gently. He clapped Harry a bit roughly on the shoulder and cleared his throat loudly. Then, unable to control himself, he pulled Harry into a bear hug. “I’m glad you’re okay, son,” Arthur said as he pulled away eyes beaming with the same pride he had found in Molly’s. 

“Thank you,” said Harry softly, putting all the gratitude he could muster into those two words. For all the times he had enjoyed the family’s hospitality, for their guidance and for their patience and love. 

Yes, Harry thought, they loved him. They were his family. 

He looked at the both of them and was hit with another wave of emotion. “I love you both.” His eyes moved past them to look at the rest of the red-haired gathering behind them and saw Bill and Ron speaking quietly. Percy had placed his glasses on the top of his head and had his face buried in his hands. Ginny was holding George’s hand as he stared across the room at the row of the fallen. Harry’s gut twisted in grief and guilt. 

His eyes locked onto Molly’s. “I’m so sorry,” he managed to choke out. “If I had re-”

“Stop,” Molly hissed uncharacteristically. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it forcefully.

“You - will - not - blame - yourself,” She stressed each word as if she were trying to carve them into stone with the sheer power of her voice. Harry had to look away. He would never, ever forgive himself for not ending this sooner, but he would try, for the sake of others. 

Harry squeezed her hand and nodded. “Thank you,” he said again. She let go of his hand and he gave her one last melancholy look before he started to make his way to Ginny and George. 

He crouched in front of them and Ginny smiled weakly at him. George didn’t seem to register he was there yet. 

“Hey, George,” Harry said as gently as he could. George’s eyes snapped to his. They were unfocused and watery. His lips twitched in an attempt at a grin. 

“Hi, Harry.” His voice cracked a little. “Way to go with Voldy. I knew you had it in you.”

Harry faltered a little, remembering his dream where Fred had said something very similar. Then he remembered Fred’s request. Harry placed a hand on his friend’s knee and opened his mouth to say something but he had no idea how to comfort the young wizard. He could say that he was sorry for his loss or that everything would be okay. Harry knew for himself that those words didn’t help. He couldn’t even begin to imagine losing someone who was your best friend that you had known your entire life. George had never been alone like this. All Harry could do was be there for him, so that he wasn’t so lonely. 

“Whatever you need, you ask for it okay?” He squeezed his knee to express his earnestness. “No matter how small, okay?”

George nodded slowly and gave a great sniff. He glanced at the row of shrouds then looked down at his shoes. 

“Would you walk me back to the common room. I - I don’t want to be here anymore. And I’d like to change clothes.” 

Ginny and Harry exchanged glances. 

“Of course, George.” The three of them stood and began to shuffle toward the corridor. Ginny informed Mrs. Weasley of where they were going as they passed them. George took each of their hands in his and they were silent the entirety of the journey except for George’s soft sniffling. 

They got to the portrait hole and had to let go of each other’s hands to climb through. 

Once they were through George turned suddenly and there was a forced grin on his face.

“Thank you, guys but I think I can shower by myself.”

“Okay.” Ginny stepped back to give her brother some space. Harry could tell she was wary of letting her brother be alone right now, but she respected his wishes. “You’ll let us know if you need anything.” 

George nodded and turned to head to the boys’ dormitory. Harry looked around, everyone seemed to have gone to bed or elsewhere. Ginny was staring after her brother. He noticed some of her hair was singed. 

“Walk with me?” he pleaded. 

Ginny turned her gaze to his. She was grief-stricken and tired, but she didn’t want to sleep. Plus her curiosity was eating away at her. 

“Lead on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the first chapter. It's pretty tame. I'll try and get some angst in the next few chapters.
> 
> I've always loved the headcanon that Harry gets a secondary scar. I think I saw it in a drawing one time and I really liked the idea.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	2. After a Story

Harry and Ginny walked down the corridor. He wanted to go outside to get some fresh air. He wondered how much damage the beach had sustained. Ginny hadn’t said anything. He supposed she was waiting for him to talk. But she had just lost her brother and he was worried about her.

“How are you feel-,” he started, then thought of something else. “ - are you going to be alright?” Harry mentally kicked himself. He was not an expert on grief counseling, especially when he could use some himself.

Ginny reached for his hand and he took it. Their fingers laced together.

“I’ve lost my brother, Harry. I am not okay. I will not be okay for a long time, but I’m more worried about George and Mum and Dad … and you.” She gazed at him. “But I’m also relieved that I made it through this with everyone else - and you.” She squeezed his hand harder than was necessary. “Which you need to explain right now or you’ll find yourself at the unpleasant end of my wand presently.”

“Right.” Harry had them turn the corner into another corner. ‘ _Where do I even start_?’ Harry decided that chronologically was the best way to go about it.

“Right,” he repeated and took a deep breath. This was going to take a while.

He began with the Marvolo girl who fell in love with a muggle and the boy that was the result of their unhealthy union. The boy named Tom Marvolo Riddle who hurt the other children in his orphanage and talked to snakes. Harry talked about how Dumbledore himself made a visit to the boy and invited him to Hogwarts. Riddle was an excellent student, quiet, and obsessed with higher levels of dark magic. Harry spoke of how Slughorn told Riddle about Horcruxes and how to make them.

“That’s where it all started,” said Harry as they exited the castle and headed toward the beach. The air still carried the smell of smoke and the exterior of the castle looked somehow worse than the inside. “Riddle was obsessed with power and conquering death.”

He told her of how Riddle killed the Marvolos and his muggle family and began to search for followers so that he could execute the power he so desperately craved.

“And while Riddle was gathering power, my mother was growing up with her family. Her sister called her a freak but there was a boy in her neighborhood who was just like her. Severus Snape showed her that she was not the only one with magic and they became friends.” Ginny squeezed his hand encouragingly when he failed to speak again immediately. “They went to Hogwarts but they couldn’t spend as much time together. They were in different houses. My father and Sirius and Remus did not get along with Snape, and Snape started hanging out with all the radical elitist Slytherins. One thing led to another and he called my mother a Mudblood. That was the last straw for her. She married my dad and had me and everything was fine. Except-” He kicked a piece of rubble out of his path. “There was a prophecy. That a boy born at the end of July would be destined to challenge the Dark Lord. Snape told his master, for he was a full on Death Eater by that point, and Riddle concluded that it was either me or Neville.”

“Neville?” Ginny asked in surprise.

“It could have just as easily been him with the scar on his head.”

They were silent until they reached the shore. Harry sat down in the dry sand and motioned for Ginny to follow.

“Anyway, skip ahead a few years and Dumbledore comes and tells me that Riddle made seven Horcruxes. He knew about three: cursed ring from his grandfather, Salazar Slytherin’s locket, and his old diary.”

Ginny’s eyes widened. Harry continued to tell her what happened in the cave and his, Hermione’s and Ron’s quest to find the rest of the pieces of Riddle’s fractured soul. Their visit to the Ministry of Magic, to Godric’s Hollow, to Malfoy Manor and to Gringotts. He told her about Snape’s demise and how he watched his memories to learn that he, himself, was one of Riddle’s Horcruxes.

“You had a piece of Voldemort inside you your whole life?” she asked incredulously.

“It’s gone now,” Harry stated harshly in defense of himself. Being a Horcrux wasn’t something he had chosen, but he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t feel a little sick when he thought about himself being a host to the murderer of his parents. “I went to that forest to die for you all and he killed a part of himself instead.”

He regained his composure. “He sent Narcissa Malfoy to check that I was dead but she just wanted to see her son safe so she lied. She said I was dead so Riddle’s army could come to the castle, so she could get Draco. I didn’t have much choice but to pretend to be dead until I got a chance to escape or else he really would have killed me.”

“Harry, why didn’t you tell any of us?” The youngest Weasley's eyes were wet. “We could have gone with you.”

“You wouldn’t have let me leave even if you knew the truth and you know it.” Harry had great faith in the loyalty of his friends and he knew he wouldn’t have made it three steps toward the forest without someone pulling him back.

“I know,” she whispered, “it’s just . . . awful that you had to go alone.”

Harry refrained from telling her that he was not alone. That he had his parents and Sirius and Remus there the whole time. That story would be his.

“Did it hurt?” she asked, her eyes roaming his body for any indication of the killing curse.

“No. It gave me another scar though,” he mentioned as an afterthought and lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal the new lightning bolt scar over his heart. Ginny inhaled sharply and reached out slowly. She traced the tender spot with her index finger. Her cold touches made him shiver. She leaned back after a thorough examination and he pulled his shirt back down.

“What will you do now?” she asked.

Harry had been asking himself that same question. Deep down, he hadn't really thought he’d make it this far. Just a few hours ago, he had resigned himself to death.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted as he stood. He pulled her up and they were inches apart. He could smell her shampoo mixed with a little of her burnt hair. She wrapped her arms around him slowly. Her cheek pressed against his chest. He returned the hug and they swayed slightly. The lake lapped gently on the shore.

“I missed you,” she sighed.

Harry kissed the top of her head. “I missed you, too.”

They stayed in each other’s embrace until the sun became level with the tips of the mountains on the horizon. Harry reluctantly released the young witch.

“I have to get Snape’s body,” he told her. He tucked her hair behind her ears as her eyebrows furrowed.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “I don’t want you to see.”

“But-”

“Please.” Harry looked into her stubborn eyes, trying to make her understand that he wanted to do this alone.

Ginny sighed. “Fine.”

He hugged her again. “Thank you.” He took a step back. “Will you tell McGonagall that I need to speak with her when I get back? Nothing urgent. I just need to make a few arrangements.”

Ginny nodded. “Don’t take too long. Mum’ll have an aneurysm.”

Harry’s lips twitched in response. He turned in the direction of the Whomping Willow and Ginny headed back to the castle.

He made it to the secret tunnel without serious bodily harm. Harry lit the end of his wand and made his way through the passage trying to keep his mind blank, focusing only on the task at hand. It wasn’t working.

Yes, Snape had been a double agent all along, but it didn’t excuse the way he treated everyone his whole life. His hatred for Harry was completely unjustified. Neville certainly didn’t deserve the treatment he had received. And Harry would never forgive Snape for the way he had outed Remus as a werewolf at the end of his third year. He had no doubts that if it weren’t for Snape’s obsession with his mother, Snape would have been a Death Eater his whole life.

But, Harry thought miserably, he had played his part well. Riddle had never known that Snape was against him. The Order had all thought he was a traitor. No one alive knew the truth except Harry, and now Ginny.

Harry arrived at the opening and tried to prepare himself. The gruesome scene that lay beyond the entrance way was not one he wanted to see again. He’d had a mission before. Something to distract him. Now there was no urgency, just the birds twittering outside and the morning light filtering through the windows and cracks of the decrepit old shack.

He took a deep breath and moved through the opening.

The man’s once pale features were now white as marble. Black eyes stared blankly across the room. His fingers were curled, his last moments scraping the floor trying to grasp onto something, anything that would keep him in this life. His blood had dried almost black against the whitewashed walls behind his slumped figure.

Harry stood above him, pondering. He supposed he would never get over the stillness: the unnerving quiet that settled upon a body after they died. Harry stared, but the old headmaster did not move, not even a twitch of his fingers.

Harry took a deep breath and stepped forward and closed his teacher’s eyes.

“Wingardium leviosa.” Snape’s body rose like a ghost in the air. Harry wondered if he would haunt the school. He didn’t think so. Harry took one last look around the room and started on his way back to the castle.

 

The Great Hall had mercifully emptied quite a bit, but there were still staring eyes and whispers as Harry passed with Snape’s body floating behind him.

“Merlin, what happened to him?”

“I say good riddance.”

“I heard he killed him. They always hated each other.”

Harry shut them out. He made his way to the left wall and laid Snape’s body next to a small body wrapped in a shroud. Harry shut his eyes. _He doesn’t deserve your grief. Not when so many others had been such better people, innocent in this war, and undeserving of their ends._ His eyes opened and fell on the pale figure before him.

_One tear. At this moment,_ Harry decided. _That is all you will give him._ He let his eyes water and the emotion roll over him. He inhaled deeply then let his breath out slowly… and the feeling was gone.

He turned away from the man who would be remembered as both a hero and a villain. The man who had no doubt stopped this war but had also been an arguable instigator to the whole mess.  
He rolled his sore shoulders and began to seek out McGonagall.

“Harry.”

He turned. “Neville.” The young wizard was a mess. His face bruised and battered, though the swelling had gone down significantly. There was still blood all over his clothes. “How are you holding up?”

Neville grinned. “I’m doing just fine, thanks to you.” He spread his arms as if to reveal the fact that he was indeed alive and well. “Though you did give us all one hell of a scare at the end there.”

“I’m sorry, I had to -”

“It’s all right, mate.” He laid a hand on his shoulder. “At least I got a little bit of a warning, didn’t I?” He winked.

Harry blushed guiltily. “Neville, I had no idea how it was going to play out, but I knew you could-”

“You don’t need to apologize, Harry,” the wizard interrupted. “I understand.”

Harry nodded, silently thanking him. He realized he very much liked this new and confident Neville Longbottom. He wondered what would have been different throughout his school days if he had always been this way.

“By the way, McGonagall’s in the Headmistress's office. She awaits your arrival.” He took a step back. “I have to make sure all the young’uns get home with their parents. I’ll see you later.”

Harry watched his retreating form for a moment then headed toward McGonagall’s office.

The battered gargoyle required no password and lept out of the way as soon as Harry approached. He climbed the stairs and announced his arrival with a small cough.

McGonagall looked up over her spectacles from where she sat behind the Headmaster’s desk. “Mr. Potter,” she greeted pleasantly. “Please take a seat.”

Harry shuffled to the chair across from her and searched the walls around him. There was a new picture frame next to Dumbledore’s empty portrait but its occupant was nowhere to be seen. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of expositing his adventures in front of his old potions professor, or Dumbledore for that matter.

McGonagall followed his eyes and seemed to sense what he was thinking. “If it helps, Professor Dumbledore had already informed me of your quest to find and destroy all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. If you wish to tell me the specifics of your mission then I will, of course, indulge in my curiosity, but if you do not want to recount this year’s happenings with me at this time, I understand.”

Harry nodded. He was thankful that the basics had already been covered. It was, after all, a very long story.

“How is the ministry holding up?” he began.

“It will take some time for the corrupt witches and wizards to be hunted down. They will rebuild. Mr. Shacklebolt has taken up the position of Minister for the time being,” she paused reluctantly. “You will have to answer his questions, but he has stated that he will give you a few days to attend funerals and recover before he needs information.”

Harry nodded again and looked at the floor. He understood. It would be nice to have some civilized order to the ministry for a change. Harry would gladly comply to questioning if it helped Kingsley rebuild the Wizarding World.

Harry changed the subject. “Did Dumbledore tell you about Snape?” He glanced at the old headmaster’s portrait. He had no idea how much she had overheard during the last showdown with Riddle.

The witch pursed her lips in a stern expression that entailed that she had indeed been told something. “Yes, I have been informed of his many actions over the years, including the apparent murder of Professor Dumbledore.” She seemed to be struggling with her feelings about the man just as much as Harry had. They were both silent for a moment.

“Did he hurt the students?” Harry asked.

McGonagall inhaled sharply and shame rolled over her usually stoic features. “No. He delegated all disciplinary actions of the children to the Carrows.” She glared at the former Headmaster’s empty portrait. “He didn’t stop any of it either.” Her cheeks reddened. “And knowing what I know now, I hope his vile soul is suffering in hell as we speak. He was on our side the entire time… but he played his part,” she hissed resentfully.

“Did he hurt you?” Harry asked, the same feeling of hatred riling up in his chest as when Amycus spit in his teacher’s face.

McGonagall scoffed. “Mr. Potter I may have been powerless to stop that man from sanctioning the torture of my children but even he was not as senseless as to try and physically wound me.” She straightened proudly for a moment, but then her shame returned.

“Any insubordination from the staff resulted in the discipline of the students.” Her eyes watered. “Harry, you must understand that we tried. The only thing we could manage to do was teach defensive spells and tell them to follow the rules.” She leaned back in her seat in defeat. “But of course, they didn’t listen. They rebelled all in their own ways, no doubt spurred by your turbulent stunt as a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in your fifth year.”

Harry’s almost managed a smile remembering the thrill of leading that small band of rebellious underage witches and wizards. He had to admit he had enjoyed teaching once he got the hang of it. Harry was pulled back into the present when McGonagall spoke again.

“He wouldn’t even let Poppy heal them after they’d been punished.” She spat the last word out as if it were a rotten piece of meat that had found its way into her dinner.

Harry wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how. He hadn’t been here. He didn’t know what it had been like.

“I trust that you did everything you could,” he finally said. “Neville said kids are going home with their parents?”

McGonagall straightened her spectacles. “Yes, everyone will have an opportunity to repeat this year. I thought it best that exams were canceled seeing as hardly anyone got a proper education this year.” She paused. “People need time to grieve. Funerals are already being arranged.”

“I brought Snape’s body from the Shrieking Shack,” Harry said abruptly, his words rushing out of his mouth before his brain could comprehend a more delicate way to breach the subject. “Riddle set Nagini on him. He’s in the Great Hall with the others.”

McGonagall nodded and waited for him to continue.

“He’ll have a regular funeral like the others.” Harry swallowed, suddenly thinking of all the funerals he’d have to attend. He’d be invited to all of them. All those people that had died for his cause, fighting his enemies. A surge of uneasiness swept through him.

“I don’t want to speak at any of them,” he said, his voice wavering. His gaze locked with McGonagall’s. “They’ll want me to speak and I -” he struggled to find the words. “I won’t have anything to say that won’t be judged to hell and back.”

His breath quickened as panic started to seep into his consciousness. They’d all look to him for either guidance or blame and he can’t do both. “I’ll refuse. Please don’t make me-”

“Harry,” the professor said gently, her eyes carrying a great sadness for him. “No one is asking you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

Her sympathy soothed yet irritated him. She didn’t know what it felt like to be followed by whispers all one’s life. And she certainly couldn’t control what people would and would not ask him to do. He’d been a vessel since he was a baby and a man he had trusted with his life had asked him to die. He took a deep breath and nodded so she would stop looking at him like that. He had come here for a reason.

“I came here to ask if I can stay here for the summer.”

McGonagall blinked in surprise. “Mr. Potter, the castle is never open to students during the summer season. Especially now with all the repairs. And I happen to know for a fact that you’ve inherited Grimmauld Place from your godfather. And I’m sure the Weasleys would love to have you-”

“Professor-” Harry began but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

McGonagall looked up at the unexpected visitor. “Mr. Zabini.”

Harry turned around quickly in his chair and eyed the Slytherin boy warily. The handsome wizard had a drying wound on his brow and his sleeve was torn at the elbow, but his face held the same impassive stoicism as it always had.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but my reason for coming just so happens to be the same as Potter’s,” Blaise stated with only a hint of sympathy in his voice and Harry wondered how long he had been standing there.

“I and a few other Slytherin students who were fighting against You Know Who and his allies feel . . . _unsafe_ returning to the homes of our families. It is our wish that we may stay here until,” his expression changed to a slightly pained one, “parents or other familial ties are tried and locked away for their crimes.”

Harry was shocked. He would never have pegged Zabini as blood traitor but here he stood before him, embarrassed and vulnerable and maybe a little terrified of what was to become his future. Harry turned back to McGonagall to gauge her reaction.

She seemed as stunned as he was. She blinked a few times before saying, “I suppose I can talk to the staff about making arrangements. You’ll all, of course, be allowed to stay until the official end of term. I will have made my decision by that time.”

It wasn’t a resounding ‘yes’ but Zabini seemed to accept it. “Thank you, Professor. I’ll tell the others.” He turned to leave, then stopped and nodded at Harry. “It’s good to see you, Potter,” he said with sincerity and then he disappeared through the entryway.

Harry turned back to his teacher.

“Well,” she began, straightening the pile of parchment on her desk, no doubt letters to family members and various ministry workers. “It seems I have one more thing to add to my to-do list.”

Harry took that as his cue to leave. He stood slowly. “Good night, Professor.”

She looked at him proudly. “Good night, Mr. Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay . . . so a little bit of angst here, but not too bad. Next chapter is the funerals. 
> 
> Also if you could tell, I don't think Snape is a good person. Don't get me wrong he's an excellent character and he was brilliantly written, but he was not nice. 
> 
> I'll try and update within the next two weeks. I've got a physics test to study for. :l
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. After the Funerals

After Harry’s meeting with McGonagall Harry wanted to see his friends. He figured his best bet was the Gryffindor common room. 

“Pugna,” he said as he approached the portrait hole. He climbed through and was met with an attack hug from Hermione. 

“Hermione, let him breathe.” Ron’s voice carried over Hermionie’s bushy hair to Harry’s ears. 

Hermione released him reluctantly. Her brown eyes were shining. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just,” She looked at the floor, embarrassed, “every time I close my eyes I see your dead body at his feet and I have to remind myself that you’re still alive.” She glanced behind her to Ron who had approached more slowly. Harry thought they both looked a little better. Perhaps they had taken a nap. Harry’s stomach growled at an absurd volume and he realized he hadn’t eaten since . . . he couldn’t even remember. 

Ron grinned at him. “Come on.” He nodded his head toward the fireplace. “The house elves brought up sandwiches.”

Harry rushed forward.

“Just be careful not to wake them,” Ron called after him in an exaggerated whisper, taking Hermione’s hand.

“Who-?” Harry began but stopped short when he saw the scene before him. In front of the hearth lay a mound of pillows. Percy Weasley lay asleep with his glasses askew and one arm drawn protectively around George’s body. The twin’s face buried into his older brother’s jumper and his arm lay across his torso. 

“He tried to sleep in the dormitory but woke up crying,” Ron explained. “Percy volunteered to stay with him, though I don’t think either of them expected this outcome.”

Harry thought that despite its tragic beginnings, the situation before him was quite adorable. He tip-toed around the brothers to sit on the couch behind them. His friends followed suit. His eyes roamed the coffee table laden with food and dived in and pulled out a turkey sandwich. Even Ron was impressed by his voracity as Harry managed to eat the entire sandwich in three ginormous bites.

“Careful, mate! We wouldn’t want you to choke after you just defeated Voldemort!”

Harry grinned through a mouthful of bread. “What a way to go,” he said after he swallowed. 

Hermione just shook her head. “I still can’t wrap my head around it - but of course it makes perfect sense - you were a Horcrux the whole time!”

“Keep your voice down, will you?” Harry hissed, glancing about the common room. “I don’t need everyone to know that a piece of Riddle’s soul was inside me my whole life!” 

Hermione quieted sheepishly. “I’m sorry Harry, but it makes perfect sense. That’s how you were able to see inside his mind and talk to snakes and how you could sense the other Horcruxes. I should have seen it before!” she whispered excitedly. Then her expression turned solemn. “But Harry, you should have told us! We could have-”

“No,” Harry interrupted. He surmised that he would be having this conversation a lot over the next few days. “I had no idea that Riddle killing his own soul wouldn’t also kill me. If I had told any of you, you would have tried to stop me.” He glanced ashamedly at the floor. “And I was so scared I would have let you.” 

Ron leaned toward him and spoke quietly. “Is that how you got that scar on your chest? He hit you with another killing curse?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Do you think that they’ll fade, now that Riddle’s dead, or-” Harry was cut off by George gasping awake. His eyes were wild as he shakily disentangled himself from a confused Percy. 

“Fred.” he croaked. It wasn’t a question, he was just calling out. The group became very still as George looked around but did not find his twin. A new wave of grief rolled over him and his hands went to his hair. “Oh, God,” he choked out. Percy swung into action and wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tried to calm him down. 

He nodded to the others. “I’ll stay with him.” George whimpered into his shoulder. “You guys should get some sleep.” He straightened his glasses and looked at them like he still had the authority of Head boy. They were all too tired to argue. 

“You let me know if I need to take over,” said Ron softly, gazing sorrowfully at his brother in Percy’s arms. Harry would have to keep an eye on Ron through the next few days. Now, he said goodnight to Hermione and reached up to rest his arm around his best friend’s shoulders. Together, they climbed the stairs to their dormitory and prayed for a peaceful sleep. They had some eventful days ahead of them. 

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Colin Creevey’s funeral was at a small muggle chapel. His parents said a few words and his brother cried softly in the pew in front of Harry. When he looked around, he realized most of the attendees were muggles. They didn’t know the truth about how Colin had died. They would never know the sacrifices that were made. They didn’t know of this boy’s - this  _ child’s _ bravery. 

Harry left before they put the boy in the ground.  

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Fred was buried on a plot of land that the Weasley family had used for centuries. It was a quiet ceremony. The sun shone brightly, the breeze was gentle, the birds sang obliviously in the trees. Harry wondered if the environment had been enchanted. He hated every second of it. His stomach rolled unpleasantly with every word of the funeral conductor to the point where he felt like he was going to be sick.

It was three days since Fred’s death but from the faces of the attendees, it would seem no one had recovered in the slightest. Arthur's hand had not left his wife’s the entire day, his handkerchief became perpetually damp as the day went on. Molly kept bursting into tears and then just as suddenly stopping, brushing away her concerned children with weak waves of her hand. Charlie hadn’t spoken to any of them much but had stayed resolutely by his mother’s side like a Roman centurion the entire morning. The act of which caused Mrs. Weasley to snap at him of being in her way during breakfast so much so that she spilled the orange juice on the eggs. Bill had worried the inside of his cheek so much that it had started bleeding. Ginny’s eyes were red but she did not cry during the service. Ron, however, could no longer maintain his stoicism and broke down at the beginning. George tried to say a few words but found that nothing he said was going to honor his brother properly. Percy had designated himself as George’s personal escort and he held his brother’s hand when he returned to his seat. As they lowered Fred into his grave Harry closed his eyes and waited for his tears to retreat. He had other funerals to go to today.

______________________________________________________________________________

 

The Lupins’ funeral was not as idyllic. It was in a graveyard up north. The wind had started to pick up and clouds were starting to form. Remus and Tonks were buried side by side. Teddy fussed in his grandmother’s arms the entire time. Andromeda had to stand up halfway through to bounce him on her hip to try and quell his cries. Harry felt a surge of sympathy for the woman. She had lost nearly everyone, Teddy, Remus, Tonks… Harry knew deep down she mourned for Bellatrix. The only family she had left was her grandson, Narcissa, and Draco. 

Harry looked at his feet when the officiant started to speak about the Lupins’ heroic deeds and their sacrifice to the cause. He found that he didn’t want to listen anymore. Of course, he wanted to honor his friends, he wanted to grieve and move on but he didn’t know when that was going to happen and he wasn’t patient enough to find out. He squeezed Ginny’s hand to tell her he was okay and then briskly rose from his seat and walked to the back row of chairs. He stood there, looking on to the two coffins in front of him. 

Harry tried to reign in his emotions. He needed space, he needed time, he needed - he needed… to calm down. Harry’s hand shook as he pushed up his glasses. He tried to slow his breathing. In and out. He felt his momentary panic begin to dissipate, but his adrenaline had already kicked in and his eyes began to water beyond his control. ‘ _ It’s okay,’  _ he thought to himself, ‘ _ it’s a funeral. You can cry here and no one will look twice.’  _  Thankfully, someone interrupted his thoughts.

“Do you think it will rain, Harry?” asked a dreamy voice beside him. 

Luna was staring up at the sky. She was wearing a modest black dress, but Harry nearly smiled when he saw she was also wearing periwinkle and shamrock striped socks with maroon flats. Harry was glad that at least Luna’s fashion sense had remained a constant, if not an unpredictable one. 

He turned his attention to the sky. “It looks like it,” he answered her.

“I’ve always loved the rain,” she said turning to look at him, her eyes soft but piercing.

The funeral was still proceeding in front of them and Harry felt bad for ignoring it, but it felt wrong just sitting there doing nothing. He needed to do something. He needed another assignment, anything to keep him occupied. But the war was over. There was no other mission, no evil to defeat. 

Harry sighed. “I feel… lost, Luna.” He shook his head as if reprimanding himself. “I need to do something but there ’s nothing to do.” He looked at her hopelessly. 

Luna hummed in agreement and stared pensively at Lupin’s grave as the coffin was lowered into it. “You know,” she began softly, “you reminded me of him. When you were leading the DA.” She smiled warmly at him. “It was nice to have a good teacher again.”

An idea started to form in Harry’s mind. He smiled for the first time in days. “Thank you, Luna.” His voice cracked. 

People started getting up from their seats. Harry said goodbye to his friend and made his way to the front row of chairs. He approached Andromeda shyly. 

“Hello,” he said meekly. Andromeda looked him up and down and nodded her head in greeting. Harry continued. “I’m sorry for your losses. I just wanted to offer, um - I mean, if you need anything, I’d be happy to help.” He looked at the baby in her arms. “I’m his godfather. I’d love to be there for him.”

Andromeda looked down at her grandson. She sighed. “Thank you for your offer, Harry.” She noticed he hadn’t taken his eyes off of Teddy. “Do you want to hold him?”

Harry swallowed and nodded slowly. Andromeda carefully placed Teddy in his godfather’s arms. The baby looked up at him curiously, his pudgy arms waving. He had his father’s eyes. Harry watched in fascination as his electric blue hair turned to a forest green. Drool covered his chin and a bubble of snot was growing in his left nostril. Harry thought he was amazing, He looked back to Andromeda. 

“You’ll write to me? If you need anything. If you ever need a night off or something,” he spoke earnestly.  

“I promise.”

He reluctantly handed off Teddy to the witch. As she Disapparated, Ginny walked up to him and took his hand.

“That was adorable,” she said. Harry noticed her singed hair had been removed. “She said you could visit him?”

Harry nodded. “I offered my extraordinary babysitting skills.”

Ginny snorted. They walked closer to where the other Weasley’s were waiting. George’s voice could be heard over the wind. 

“I don’t want to go home!”

“You could stay at the school for a while like Harry.”

“Why in the bloody hell would I want to stay there?”

Harry’s good mood started to wane. While Harry knew that moving on and getting past his grief was what was best for him, it seemed George hadn’t reached that point yet.

Well, he still had one more thing to do today.

“George?” The twin turned to Harry. “Would you like to go on an errand with me?” Harry raised his eyebrows in encouragement. George hesitated. The rest of the Weasleys looked confused as to what Harry’s errand could possibly be. 

“It’ll be quick, I promise.” Harry let go of Ginny’s hand and took a step toward George. 

The young wizard nodded. “Okay.”

Harry gave a quick smile. A small bit of praise for George. “Come on,” he beckoned and gestured over his shoulder. “I’ll side along you.” 

“I’ll drop him off later,” Harry mouthed to Ginny when George had passed him. She nodded in understanding, her curiosity muted. 

They stepped away from the group. “Where are we going, Harry?”

“Godric’s Hollow.”

Harry grabbed his arm and they disappeared.

They arrived on the outskirts of town. A welcome sign glowed in the light of the setting sun. Several owls eyed them from a nearby tree. There was an elderly couple entering their house down the street.  

“Let’s take a walk.” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. George followed uneasily. He looked up and down the street but didn’t find any clues as to what they were doing there. They walked in silence for a few blocks until George couldn’t take it anymore.

“Harry, I know you’re trying to help - everyone is - but I don’t see how the silent treatment is going to accomplish that.” His voice sounded strained. 

Harry looked at the ground and sighed. “Fred is gone, George. I don’t know exactly how to help you. And I don’t know exactly how you feel. I can only guess.” He tried to make eye contact with George but he was staring up at the sky, no doubt trying to use gravity to try and keep the tears from spilling out.

Harry continued. “I can guess that you feel angry at those who failed to save your brother, maybe even angry at yourself?” George slowed his pace. “Am I right about that, George?”

He hesitated, then nodded once, letting his head drop down again to look at the sidewalk. 

“I can guess that you feel ashamed of your grief, but at the same time, you never want to stop feeling sad, because that would somehow disrespect his memory. It won’t be fair if you’re happy and he’s dead.” 

A tear fell from the Weasley’s eye as he nodded again.

“And I can guess that you’ve never felt so utterly alone and yet so terribly suffocated by people in your entire life.”

George’s face contorted into a silent sob. “Yes,” he whispered. They both stopped walking and George leaned against the side of a building, the sun casting a shadow over the both of them.

“Okay,” Harry said softly. “That’s a start. Now we know what you’re feeling.” He grabbed his arms. “The next step is a little harder, yeah? We have to learn what to do with those feelings. Right?” Harry prompted, nodding his head. George sniffed and nodded along with him. 

“That’s got to be up to you, though,” Harry stated. “You’re the one who’s got to decide what to do with that anger, and grief and loneliness. I can’t decide that for you.”

George’s watery eyes peered miserably at Harry’s. “I just miss him so much,” he breathed. “It’s only been  _ three days _ .” He shut his eyes. “THREE DAYS!” he roared, his fist pounding on the brick wall on each word.

“I know, I know,” Harry soothed. He knew George needed to get this out of his system but he didn’t want to disturb the neighborhood. “It’s okay to miss him. You’re right it’s only been three days. That’s not a lot of time to adjust.” God knew Harry hadn’t but he pushed aside his own grief and gripped his arms tighter. “But he’d want you to move on.”

“I-”

“He’d want you to be happy,” Harry said forcefully but not unkindly. “Please.” His own eyes watered. “Please promise that you’ll try. Just a little bit each day. I know it seems hopeless right now. The world feels muted and grey without him. But try and find something that makes you happy once a day. Write it down if you have to. You can still remember him and miss him, but promise me you’ll try.”

George wiped his nose on the back of his hand. He nodded again. “Okay,” he whispered. 

Harry gave a small smile. “Okay.” He released the redhead from his grasp. “Come on. We’re almost there.” 

They walked a few more blocks until they came to a graveyard. Harry headed to where his parents were buried and stopped in front of them. George read the names on the graves over Harry’s shoulder. His eyes widened and he took a step back but he didn’t speak. 

Harry looked at the empty space to the left of his parents’ grave. ‘ _ Yes,’  _ he thought, ‘ _ this would be the spot.’ _

“Kreacher,” he called. A moment passed and then a loud crack sounded over the graveyard. Kreacher bowed deeply. 

“What do you require, Master Potter?” he croaked. 

Harry crouched down to Kreacher’s level and pointed at the spot. “I think that’s a good place don’t you?”

Kreacher looked at the Potters’ graves next to them. “He would have liked it, Master.” 

Harry nodded his agreement. “Put it there then.” 

Kreacher snapped his fingers and suddenly, a new gravestone appeared with the name ‘Sirius Orion Black’ engraved in the marble. Harry felt a small smile come to his face. James and Sirius, together again. He thanked Kreacher and the elf disappeared. 

“Alright.” Harry stood to turn toward George who had been watching silently. “Let’s get you home. I promised I wouldn’t keep you out too late.” He glanced at his watch. Harry held out his arm like a gentleman offering a lady to dance. George scoffed good-naturedly and attempted a grin, but his eyes remained the same as they had been minutes before: anguished and desperate. 

“I think I know how to get home, Harry,” Harry only registered it for a moment before he Disapparated with a snap. 

Harry sighed to himself and took one last look at his family’s final resting places.  He hoped he had helped George today, at least a little. He inhaled, turned, and then he was at the Burrow. 

Mrs. Weasley hugged him when he arrived, told him he needed a haircut, and then offered to let him stay at the house.

“Just for tonight,” she asked sweetly. 

“No - really, school’s fine. All my stuff is there.”

“Stuff can be moved!”

“Mrs. Weasley I’m afraid I must insist on staying at school.” 

She finally relented and sent him on his way after thanking him again for looking after George.

He nodded to Ron and hugged Ginny on his way out of the house. Whatever their relationship was now, it wasn’t at a “kiss goodbye” level yet. Harry wasn’t worried. They had all the time in the world now. 

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

The next morning Harry woke up late. His dreams had mercifully been nightmare free. He got dressed and ate his breakfast. An owl dropped off a letter from Shacklebolt. Harry opened the letter and started to read.

As Harry read the letter, a funeral service began. There were just two attendees and they were neither student nor staff from Hogwarts. Two strangers of long lost family ties found themselves at Severus Snape’s funeral that morning. They had never met the man, they just knew that the invitation had said he had died bravely at the Battle of Hogwarts. Though, they both wondered, if he was such a war hero, why had no one else come to pay their respects?


End file.
